


Castiel Milton's One-Week Guide to Apologizing

by queen_of_hells_bells



Series: The Five-Step Guide [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apologies, Basically, Castiel owns a bookstore, Dean's actually not really in it a lot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, Protective Gabriel, Protective Jessica, Protective!Sam Winchester, Teacher!Dean Winchester, cas is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_hells_bells/pseuds/queen_of_hells_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the, as it says, part of the series where Cas apologizes. There's also his whole backstory thing about why he broke up with Dean in the first place.<br/>I suppose that technically it could be read as a stand-alone, but I sincerely advise against that course of action. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel Milton's One-Week Guide to Apologizing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MirkatManor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirkatManor/gifts).



Monday: Try something cute.

Dean loved country music. It was a secret, something he hadn’t even told his brother, but he loved the crooning voices, cute storylines, and gorgeous guitar solos. Whenever he and Cas would go driving, Dean would pull out the secret box of country cassettes (some which he had made special for this purpose), and the two of them would sing along to Johnny Cash, George Strait, Kenny Chesney, Gretchen Wilson, Tim McGraw, and basically anyone who wasn’t more pop than they were country.

His favorite song though, by miles, was definitely ‘Check Yes or No’ by George Strait. Dean had once told Cas that he would do nearly anything if asked to in such a way.

So, naturally, Cas thought this was a great place to start. After little deliberation--he was afraid that if he thought too much about it he’d talk himself out of it--Cas slipped a small note into Dean’s mailbox at the school:

_Am I forgiven? Check yes or no._

_Yes             No_

When he returned to his apartment that night, he found that the note had been taped onto his knocker. Neither word had been checked, circles, or in any other way marked, and Cas was about to vent his frustration by destroying the damn thing, when he was a short sentence scribbled on the back:

_Interpret this how you will._

The corners of his eyes crinkled in confusion before slowly smoothing into a grin: there was still hope.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Tuesday: Try something like a bribe.

Tuesday dawned bright and early, and found Cas at the bakery down the street. They’d opened at six, at which point Cas had been inside for nearly an hour, telling Gabriel about the new plan.

“It’s still a bad plan.” Gabriel yanked the strawberry pie from the oversize oven with a little more force than Cas thought seemed necessary. “I mean, I didn’t want you to break up with him anyway, that wasn’t a good plan; and ignoring him for three years wasn’t a great one either, and, actually, I’m pretty sure the last time you had a great idea was when you agreed to move in with him.” He gave Cas a pointed, judgemental glare as he dropped the pie onto the cooling rack. “But are you sure apology pie is the way to go? Why not just talk to him?”

Cas glanced down at his older brother in surprise. “ _You’re_ giving me relationship advice? You _never_ give me advice. The last ‘advice’ you gave me was to fuck him out of my system.”

“In my defence, that was before I knew what you’d actually done to him.” It was lucky Gabriel had grown up with Cas, because the look the dark haired man was shooting him would send a lesser-trained man running for the hills.

“Anyway. I always got him a strawberry pie from you when we fought. It’s like our version of an apology.” Cas sighed, dropping onto a stool with his head in his hands.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at the top of his brother’s head. “Is that why I made so many pies for you? Jesus, I thought you two just had some sort of... _thing_ for strawberries.” Cas snorted out a weirdly disgusted-sounding laugh, though it was cut off when he felt Gabriel’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the older man’s face just inches from his own. “Cassie. You’re my baby brother, and I love you; but I like Dean and if you hurt him again, I will personally chop your dick off. Okay?”

The two stared at each other a moment, Cas just blinking in something like frightened shock, Gabriel grinning somewhat evilly. Then, just as suddenly, the spell was broken and Gabriel shot his brother a real smirk.

“Now take your pie and get out of here. Don’t you have a classroom to break into or something?”

That night, the pie tin was sitting in front of his apartment, sparkling clean, with a small note attached to it:

_Maybe (flip over)_

Cas grinned: this was looking up.

_As in no. Not yet. Try again._

He was still standing there outside his door when Mrs. Hill, who lived upstairs, stopped on her daily trek to the 24-hour wine shop to ask why he looked like a depressed fish.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Wednesday: Talk to the family.

Was it creepy to drop into someone’s work without either giving them notice or being their friend?

Gabriel thought yet, but then he also thought apology pie was a bad plan, so clearly he wasn’t the person to consult about these things.

Besides, Sam seemed open to it, merely sighing when he saw Castiel in the doorway before dialling a number on his phone, explaining that “she told me you’d come back for another talk, and wanted to be in on it.” He motioned for Cas to sit, giving him the evil eye the whole time.

“Hello, Cas.” Jess’ voice, though friendly, somehow managed to also come off as cold over the tinny speaker of the desk phone. Cas grimaced.

“Hello, Jessica.” He heard her chuckle at his use of her full name, but he was trying to be polite here, so she’d have to deal with it. “And Samuel, of course. Thank you both for meeting with me.”

Sam grimaced and snorted out an amused laugh. “If I had my way, Castiel, you’d never see Dean again. I only let you in here because Jess thought we ought to hear you out.” He leaned back in his chair, bitchface 36 (if Cas remembered correctly) firmly in place, and gestured for Cas to speak.

There was a tense pause before Jess’ voice, annoyed this time, crackled through the speakers. “Sam, cut it with the macho posturing crap. Cas, what Sam is trying to say is that we’re upset with you, but will to try and help you get Dean back.” Between the tone of her voice and the look on Sam’s face, the words “but only if you’re serious” were clear.

Cas swallowed, suddenly nervous under Sam’s lawyer gaze.

“Um. So, as you two know, I’ve known Dean for nearly five years now. A little less than one seventh of my lifespan. In that time, we’ve only been on speaking terms for one year, seven months, and what is now seventeen days. By my calculation, that is roughly 4.6% of my total life span. A practically insignificant amount of time. I’ve had casual friendships that have lasted longer.” Cas was speaking directly at the phone, deliberately ignoring the way Sam was practically grinding his teeth to nubs.

“And yet, in all my thirty five years of life, I’ve never met anyone quite like your brother. He just seems to understand me in a way no one else does, and I adore everything about him. He took my hand that Saturday in my shop and….” He trailed off, looking lost for words. Then, suddenly, just as Sam drew in a breath to speak: “And I might not know the right words, Sam, but I love Dean, and I’m going to do everything I can to get him back, whether you want me to or not!”

The two men stared at each other, the phone line crackling quietly with Jess’ near-silent cheering, just ingesting Castiel’s words. Then, Sam stood and crossed to his door, opening it and leaning out slightly. “Beth. Could you cancel all my meetings today? I have a family emergency. Thanks.” Without giving Beth (who was staring silently at the space her incredibly attractive boss had just vacated in a mix of adoration and disbelief) a chance to respond, Sam clicked the door back and turned to Cas.

“Alright,” Sam pulled off his suit jacket, hanging it on the stand beside the recently closed door. “We have a lot of work to do. Tell us what you’ve already tried.”

When Cas got back to his apartment that night, after a long day of apology planning and Sam and Jess ducking Dean’s calls, he was greeted by the sight of a small piece of white paper:

_Disappointed I didn’t hear from you today._

\-----------------------------------------------------

Thursday: Take a risk.

_Dean-_

_I was going to write ‘Dear Dean’, but I suppose I lost that right just over three years ago, didn’t I? Believe me, if there is one thing in my life which I regret, it is that day. Every day I kick myself for turning you down. I know how much you must hate me for that alone, and all I can do is to tell you how sorry I am. Because I do love you, Dean, I think I always have, and lying to you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done._

_But it was necessary. Hear me out. In high school, I dated a boy called Fergus Crowley. He was my first boyfriend, my first everything, really, and I thought the sun rose and set in him. I thought I loved him. Anything he suggested was the best idea I’d ever heard: making out, sex, drinking, smoking, drugs, passing me around to his friends because “it’s what a real boyfriend would do”; I even let him beat me because “it’ll be better this way, I swear”. It didn’t matter what he suggested, I would say yes. It wasn’t until he started burning me with the ends of his cigarettes that, for whatever reason, I drew the line. He threw me out that same night, some bullshit about “disrespect”. We’d been dating ten years; I was twentyfour._

_After that I moved in with Gabriel, used our inheritance to buy out the bookshop downstairs, and tried to move on. From then on--until four years, seven months, and twenty one days ago--I never dated seriously: only one night and “relationships”--two weeks of fucking someone after dinner instead of six drinks and a “hello”._

_So I have no good excuse for lying to you that day, Dean, except that I was scared. Scared to fall in love with someone so handsome and charming like you, because it was only a matter of time before you found someone better. I broke it off because I thought it would be better for us in the long run. I swear to you that all I wanted was for you to be happy; it’s all I want still. And I’m sorry I lied to you, Dean, I am so, overwhelmingly, incredibly sorry._

_If you wouldn’t mind coming to the shop tomorrow around lunch, I’d love to talk to you. If you don’t, that’s alright. Either I’ll see you or I won’t._

_Hopefully,_

_Cas_

Cas poured over the note one last time before folding it tightly and slipping it into Dean’s mailbox and scurrying away.

There was no note from Dean taped to his knocker that night.

This time, when Mrs. Hill came by, she wanted to know why he looked like a bedraggled badger.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Friday: Go all or nothing.

Cas’ nerves were jumbled up like headphones all morning. Why hadn’t Dean written back? Was this his way of saying he wasn’t coming? Maybe he just needed more time to think about it. What if he meant to come but forgot? What if he, Jess, and Sam were just having a good laugh at how desperate and gullible Cas was? He wouldn’t have thought Jess capable of such cruelty, but then how well did he really know her? What if--

The jingle of the bells alerted Cas to the presence of a customer in the shop. He glanced down at his watch: 10:45. Far too early for Dean to be showing up, if he was coming at all. He sighed, gently closing the aged blue treasure that was _Oxford Dictionary of the Classical World_ and placed it back in it’s spot. “I’ll just be a moment. Feel free to look around.” From the sound of footsteps padding softly towards him, it sounded as though the shopper did indeed feel free.

He turned, the salesman smile he and Dean had practiced so extensively firmly in place, only to have it stolen away by a gasp. “Dean!” The man in question smile bashfully.

“I ‘felt free’. Sorry I’m early.” Cas just nodded wordlessly, and the momentary silence stretched out just a beat too long before Dean broke it. “Got the whole day off, and it was a bit too...well, didn’t feel like waiting around.” When Cas still didn’t respond, Dean sighed, reaching into his jacket to pull out a piece of paper. “Look, Cas, why….when you... _that day_ , why didn’t you just tell me this?” He gestured with the paper, coming close to waving it in the shorter man’s face. Cas’ mouth opened, closed, opened again, and, “Stop it, Cas. You look like one of the damned singing fash that Sammy likes so much.”

He snapped his mouth shut, then realized he couldn’t speak that way, and opened it cautiously. “I..I wanted to. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Cas? You didn’t think I deserved the truth? You don’t think I was scared shitless, too? You don’t that that maybe, just maybe-”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me!” The words slipped out before Cas could stop them, hanging densely in the air for a second before slamming hard into Dean, leaving him speechless. “I was scared that if you found out who I used to be, the things I used to do, that would would be disgusted, and wouldn’t want me. that you’d think I was ‘damaged goods’. And if you thought that, you would leave, and that would have hurt so much, I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” Cas paused for breath, realizing suddenly that he was staring fixatedly at the floor. Steeling himself, he looked up to match Dean’s eyes. “I didn’t want to be broken again, Dean, so I broke you instead. And it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Cas was going to take a blind step back when a strong arm reached out and yanked him forward into a tight hug. Burying his head into the wall of warmth that was Dean’s chest, Cas let out of a small sniff, determined not to cry. Then, just as suddenly, Cas was shoved backwards, his face been tilted up to meet Dean’s stern-teacher eyes.

“Cas, babe, you gotta listen to me. You were the first man I ever dated, the only person I stayed with more than six months, the only person I ever asked to move in, and the only person I ever asked to marry me. And you’re the only one I ever _will_ ask to marry me. You’re it for me, man. I’d never leave me, especially not because some manipulative, sadistic jackoff thought you weren’t good enough. Because--and don’t you ever tell Sammy I said this--you’re it, Cas, you’re the one for me. You’re smart, funny, wicked handsome, great in bed, kind, caring to a fault, excited about life, and pretty much everything else that I’m not.” He paused, a stormcloud stelling suddenly on his Adonis-like face. “I mean, there’s a part of me that just won’t get over you lying to me, man. That just won’t happen, but if you want me now, I’m sure as hell not gonna let you go.”

The two men were back to staring at each other, as though trying to mind-meld without touching, when Cas suddenly leapt forward and clutched around Dean’s waist in an angry facsimile of a hug, starling a half-laugh half-grunt from the taller man. “Does this mean yes?” The words were muttered into Cas’ thick hair, and the older man nodded eagerly.

“I’ll spend the rest of our lives trying to make it up to you.” He wasn’t just saying it: the words were a promise, a pledge, and Dean would have protested had Cas not sounded so solemn. Instead, he just nodded in agreement, feeling Cas smile against his neck. “I’m taking you to dinner tonight, then. If I’m going to win your heart,” Dean chuckled at Cas’ old-fashioned language, but he pushed on anyway. “If I’m going to win your heart, I’ll need as much of a head start as I can get.”

At this Dean actually laughed, loud and without any shame. “Cas,” He said, murmuring the words softly into Cas’ hair, so soft that he had to strain to hear. “This might be against the rules, but I can assure you that in this race, you’re already at the finish line.”

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I would like to say how truly sorry I am that it took me this long to get this up. Moving's a bitch, as it turns out.  
> Secondly, I do hope you liked it. Please let me know with comments and kudos, because I'm a writer and therefore crave attention and feedback.  
> Thirdly, If you're reading this, I love you and you're a babe. Thanks for sticking with me through this whole damn shifest. You rock.


End file.
